COVER REVEAL ~LOVE SCARS BY NICOLE SNOW

The
worst night of my life just got worse. Nobody explained why I've been
dumped in this run down house, or who this hulk with the filthy
mouth is. All I know is he wants me, he says I'm his, and I'm
ignoring my instinct to run like hell.

When
he pulls me into his embrace, I want to push closer to his warmth,
his strength, his vicious tattoos.

Can
I trust him? Can I trust myself? Or will obeying his wicked words
confirm all my worst suspicions?

DAVID

So
sweet, so pure, so confused...I almost feel bad about claiming her.
Almost.

Too
bad she's a Rossini, and I don't regret making her old man sign her
over to me for one second. I was born a Strelkov, a killer and an
outlaw, and I second guess nothing.

The
instant my hands are on her, I know I've made the right choice. The
crazy ache in my lips when they're not on hers doesn't lie. Revenge
is a dish best served hot, sweaty, seething with passion, and
Anna's tonight's special.

Yeah,
she's gonna flip when I shove the wedding contract in her face. But
I'm gonna make her my wife in every nasty, beautiful, permanent way
I can, even if it means adding a few more scars to my skin and
Anna's heart...

“Hope
you get those fucking tears out of your system soon, pet. They're not
gonna delay a damned thing.”

“What're
you talking about? Delay what?” I snorted.

David
jerked me against his chest, this time tighter. His hand rolled down
my side, pressing my sweater snug. He didn't stop until his brute
hand was clapped on my thigh, giving it a possessive squeeze.

Dangerous
heat flooded me, rage and lust mingling in the dance I despised. It
gave me my answer before he opened his mouth again.

No.
Not there. Please!

“You're
gonna do your fucking duties like a good wife, same as I'm gonna do
mine like your lawfully wedded man. We've got certain traditions we
respect around here, Anna. Shit means more to me than breathing.
You'll figure that out fast.” He sighed, hissing hot, guttural
desire onto my neck, stopping just short of stamping his lips to my
skin. “Nothing's gonna stop me from fucking your brains out, love.
Nothing. This little contract gives me all the
rights and privileges a husband deserves, and I'm not taking that
shit for granted. You can whine all you want, but sometime in the
next twenty-four hours, I'll be balls deep inside your sweet little
pussy. Then you'll understand. Once you have this dick in you, you'll
never be able to imagine another, especially not one attached to some
pissant who doesn't know shit about blood or sex or ink like I
do.”

Shit!
I stared deep into his eyes, searching, wondering if this
entire thing was some sick bastard's joke.

There
was amusement in his eyes, but it wasn't playful. The handsome psycho
holding me was deadly serious.

I
tried to keep breathing. It wasn't easy when the lust was
overpowering my anger, one ruthless piece at a time with his hand so
close to where I gushed and ached. I was coming unraveled right
there, lusting after a man who filled my heart with total
contempt.

He
pulled himself away in one rough movement, sending me crumpling down
again, clawing at the chair for support. I caught myself and stayed
on my knees.

“I'll
give you the day to get used to this house and screw your head on
straight. Dry those bright eyes,” he said, stepping away and
pointing his finger at me. “Tonight, babe, it's just you, me, and a
bed. Welcome to your fucking honeymoon.”

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